


The Day The World Went Away

by snakeowls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Community: rs_games, Depression, Established Relationship, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Loneliness, M/M, R/S Games 2017, Recreational Drug Use, Sorry pups, Trust Issues, but I had to do this, ilu really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeowls/pseuds/snakeowls
Summary: R/S Games 2017 - Day 29 - Team RemusA glimpse into the life of Remus Lupin from 1978-1984 and everything that he once had and lost.





	The Day The World Went Away

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta Wild Bea for her patience and advice. I'm forever grateful for your help.
> 
> Written for RS Games 2017 prompt #5 - "I cannot fix the hour or the spot or the look or the words which laid the foundation. It was too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." - excerpt from the novel _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen

**19th December 1984**

Sometimes Remus feels the need to torture himself by trying to pinpoint exactly when it all went wrong. He’s not even sure that there is any one event that he can put it down to, or anyone who can take the blame. Well, Sirius is to blame for that one thing, that traitorous act that had been so unlike Sirius it made Remus unsure if he had known him at all.

He does not know how he didn’t see it happening. He, who was supposed to be the closest to Sirius, his soulmate, his love. Maybe he had been so blinded by him that he missed the lies and deceit. Or maybe he really had known what Sirius was capable of all along, but had allowed himself to ignore it, employing his usual tactic of pretending that everything was fine, and that all was well. It’s no wonder that Sirius was able to fool them all, turns out that he was a true Black after all.

Now Remus sits alone on his favoured park bench, delaying going back to the damp bedsit that he’s sharing with a few other squatters who are just as damaged and fucked up as he is, for reasons unknown. It doesn’t do well to share such things, Remus has discovered, everyone is so caught up in their own troubles that no one really cares anyway.

He spends his days wandering around whatever town he’s wound up in, sometimes walking with purpose pretending that he's going somewhere, pretending that his days aren't pointless and lonely. He’s aware of the dirty looks from passersby while he hangs around the bakery at the end of the day, waiting for them to throw out their unsold produce. He waits for them to lock up then opens up the bins around the back with a quick Alohamora, grabs what he can and poof, he’s gone. 

Sometimes he’ll share the spoils with his housemates, but most times not. Instead he trades it for cigarettes or weed or cheap vodka or anything else that he can medicate himself with to dull his thoughts and make it all go away. Some months he even looks forward to the full moon, hoping that the wolf will get him at last, but fate would never be so kind, not to Remus Lupin. Instead, he wakes up naked, stripped bare of himself and screaming in pain and disappointment.

It’s Christmas soon, and he knows that his father will get in touch with him again and try to persuade him to come home, but Remus just can’t do it. He’s ashamed of what he is and what he has become. He already knows how much of a burden he was to his parents growing up and doesn’t want to ruin his father’s life any more. He knows that his silence isn’t the right thing to do and his father must be worried, sending regular owls, but never receiving a response from Remus in return, but it’s easier this way. He hopes that his father will eventually give up and leave him too, but he’s stubborn. A Lupin family trait.

Remus sighs and stands up, pulling his battered old coat around his bones a little tighter to try and keep the cold wind at bay. It’s starting to get dark and the park becomes a whole different place in the night-time, unsavoury characters out cruising for a quick fuck and Remus hasn’t quite got the courage for that, not yet. He sets off towards the shops. They’ll be closing up in a few hours, so all he needs to do is wait. He has time, and plenty of it.

 

**3rd September 1978**

Remus was feeling nervous, but he had no idea why. He hadn’t seen Sirius’s flat before. James had been there, of course, so Remus had already heard about it in great detail, along with their month of freedom last summer while Remus was stuck on the farm helping his parents with the new pigs. Even Peter had dropped by for a few days, although without Remus around to act as a buffer against James and Sirius’s boisterous ways, he suspected that Peter was rather glad to head home again. 

He had a picture of the flat in his mind, but now that he was here it was far more Sirius than he had imagined. Standing in front of the fireplace in the living room he recognised Sirius’s old trunk, S.O.B engraved in the gold nameplate, still shining just as brightly as it had in their Hogwarts dormitory. Sirius’s worn old blanket, which James used to mock, questioning why a teenaged boy needed a comfort blanket, was thrown over the back of the couch, and the walls were covered with band posters and shelves chock-full of books. Towers of records were piled up on the floor threatening to topple over, held up with a few charms, and empty take away cartons leftover from last night’s dinner lay abandoned on the coffee table.

“So,” Sirius slung his arm round Remus’s shoulder, “Welcome to Casa de Sirius, what do you think?”

“Yeah, it’s lovely.” Remus tried to sound encouraging.

“Lovely isn’t really what I was going for, dear Remus. I was hoping for more of a shag pad kind of vibe you know?” Sirius laughed, took Remus’s hand and pulled him from room to room, giving him a whistle stop tour of the rest of the tiny flat, finishing up in the bedroom. Or, the Grand Finale, as he called it. “I changed the sheets for you and everything,” Sirius winked.

After the sheets were dirtied again, Remus retrieved his bags from the living room and started to unpack. Sirius had cleared a space for him in the wardrobe (mainly by taking half of his own clothes off the hangers and dumping them on the floor), and Remus put his books and records alongside Sirius’s. They were sure to have some doubles, Remus made a mental note to check on that later.

To celebrate their first night in the flat together they had fish and chips for dinner, got outrageously drunk on cheap red wine from the supermarket and attempted to have sex in every room, but in the end they were too drunk and tired and fell asleep after the hall (which Sirius insisted was a room) and the bathroom. When Remus woke up the next morning he found himself using the bath mat as a blanket and had a banging sore head and an awful crick in his neck. Sirius was nowhere to be found, so he busied himself with unpacking some of the pots and pans that his Mum had given him into the bare kitchen cupboards. 

When Sirius returned mid-afternoon, Remus was curled up on the couch, nursing his fifth cup of tea of the day. 

“Hey handsome, I’m home!” Sirius leaned over the back of the couch and gave Remus a quick kiss. “You settled in?”

“Yeah, everything’s unpacked. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw the contents of your fridge though, I don’t even know what some of that stuff used to be.”

Sirius laughed, “My kingdom for a House Elf! I’ve got you to look after me now though, don’t I?”

“Lucky for you.” Remus smiled. 

He wanted to ask Sirius where he had been all day, but didn’t want to push him. He reasoned that Sirius would tell him if it was that important anyway, plus Sirius must have got used to independence and not having to answer to anyone for the past few months that he had lived here alone. So, Sirius didn’t offer up an explanation and Remus didn’t ask. 

Remus stretched, his back cracking satisfyingly after sitting still for so long. He glanced at the clock, noticing the time. “I went to the shops, want me to make dinner? I got a cookery book, I can probably make some mince and tatties without killing us?”

“Ooh yes please, can I help?” Sirius clambered over the back of the couch and settled himself in Remus’s lap.

“No, but you can watch.”

Sirius smiled lewdly, “That’s ok, I like to watch.” 

Dinner had to wait for a bit, but they got there in the end.

 

**17th May 1979**

“Remus!” 

“In the kitchen,” said Remus, blowing on the spoon and tentatively tasting the stew that had been bubbling away in the oven for the past few hours. It was his gran’s recipe, and he insisted on cooking it the old-fashioned Muggle way as per her detailed instructions.

Sirius strode into the room and kicked his boots off into the corner. He was holding something in his hand, and started to read, “Did you know that wolves are the largest members of the dog family which is also known as Canidae?”

“What’s that?” Remus nodded towards what Sirius was holding, then added a little more salt and gave the stew a quick stir.

“National Geographic magazine,” Sirius held up the cover to show Remus, “It’s Muggle. It’s pretty good, actually.”

Remus smiled, amused at Sirius’s tone of surprise. “Where’d you get a Muggle magazine from?”

“Found it in a house last night. On stakeout.” Sirius came to stand behind Remus, looking over his shoulders at the pot and sniffing at it.

Remus batted him away and put the pot back in the oven. “In a Muggle neighbourhood? Why are you staking out Muggles?”

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“I know.”

Sirius sat down at the small kitchen table and opened the magazine again at the article, pointing at a paragraph about halfway down the page. “It also says that dogs are 98.8% genetically similar to wolves. That means that Pads and Moony are pretty much the same, told you that Padfoot was almost a wolf.”

Remus huffed dismissively, “I’m not a wolf, I’m a werewolf. Technically a Beast according to the Ministry, under section 304C.”

“A sexy beast,” Sirius grinned and cocked his head to the side. He reached out to take Remus’s hand and pull him in towards him.

“Pfft, ok.” Remus allowed himself to be pulled forward, leaning in against Sirius’s side.

Sirius put his arms around Remus’s waist and gave him a squeeze. “I know what you are. I’m there every full with you. I know Moony better than you do.”

“Lucky you, I just get to feel him rip me apart once a month.” Remus patted Sirius’s head and Sirius arched up into his touch. “Not every full.”

“What?” Sirius looked up.

“You’ve not been there for every full moon.”

Sirius pulled away and looked at Remus incredulously. “Fucking hell, you know that wasn’t my fault. Please, I don’t want to fight about this again.”

“I’m not trying to fight.”

“Why did you have to say that then?”

“I don’t know. Sorry.” Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’s hair, fingers snagging on a tangle that he worked free.

“Hmm. Anyway, I brought this home for you.” Sirius gestured towards the magazine. “Thought you might like it.”

“Thanks, I’ll take a look at it later.” Remus moved over to the cupboard to pull out some plates and set them on the table. “Dumbledore wants me to make contact with the werewolves. He knows of a pack near Dartmoor”

“Greyback?” Sirius asked.

“No, they’re not like him,” said Remus.

“You’re not like him,” said Sirius, quietly.

Remus chuckled. “Thanks for the reminder. Dinner will be ready soon”

“What a perfect little house-husband you are.” 

“Fuck off!” Remus threw the kitchen towel at him and Sirius laughed.

 

**5th January 1980**

Remus Apparated into the living room and was hit with a wall of noise. The Damned was blaring from the record player, dial turned up its height. At first glance there was no sign of Sirius, but Remus could smell weed so knew that he had to be around somewhere. 

He found Sirius in the bedroom sitting on the window seat that Remus had claimed as a reading nook, knees pulled up under his chin and looking out over the roofs below. Remus shot a quick spell at the record player, turning the sound down and alerting Sirius to his presence.

Sirius’s eyes were rimmed red. He gave Remus a wan smile and said a quiet “Hey.”

Remus took off his coat, laid it on the bed then sat down opposite Sirius who passed him the joint, and Remus took a drag. He looked at Sirius without saying anything for a moment, giving him a chance to speak. Sirius remained silent so Remus reached forward to stroke his hair and asked: “What happened?”

“Regulus is dead. Andromeda told me, she saw the funeral notice in the newspaper. It’s tomorrow.”

Remus felt his stomach lurch, then took Sirius’s hand, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say so he handed the joint back to Sirius who took it and stubbed it out on the sill.

“I don’t know what happened, the notice didn’t say, and of course none of those shits would ever think that I’m worth enough to tell me.” He paused for a moment, then laughed. “Maybe I’ll crash the funeral, they’d fucking love that.” Sirius wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

They sat in silence for a while, Remus rubbing his thumb in what he hoped were soothing circles over the back of Sirius’s hand.. He really didn’t know what to say, he was no good with this stuff. Sirius had been so good with Remus when his Mum died, allowing him to mope and whine and cry until he had got it all out, but Remus didn’t know how Sirius wanted him to react.

Finally Sirius spoke, pulling his hand away and unfolding himself from his seat, standing up and smoothing his jeans down where they had ridden up his calves. “I’m going out for a bit. I just need to clear my head.”

“Do you want company?”

“No it’s ok, I fancy a walk.” Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face and rubbed them through his hair, messing it up a bit, just the way he liked it. “I’ll be back soon.”

Remus heard him moving about the flat then leave by the front door. He closed the curtains to keep the heat in, and wandered through to the living room to stoke the fire which had almost burned out. It was starting to get dark outside, and looked like it could snow later. He hoped that Sirius had the sense to take a jacket with him.

Time ticked by and Sirius had still not come home. Remus had already contacted James and then Peter to ask if he was with either of them, but he wasn’t and Remus was starting to worry. He paced around the flat and tried to keep himself busy. He cleaned the kitchen and attempted to read for a bit but the words just weren’t sinking in. He was aware of every little noise, hoping that each rattle and thud was Sirius arriving home, but to no avail. 

Sirius returned much later that night looking like hell. Remus wasn’t sure what he had taken this time or if he was just drunk, but Sirius stumbled through the front door at quarter to twelve, at least he still had enough sense to make his way home by foot rather than Apparating. He was shivering from the cold, clothes damp from the driving sleet outside, and held a tray of soggy kebab meat, pawing at it and dropping bits on the floor trying to aim in the general area of his mouth.

Remus heard him from the couch, pulled the blanket away from his legs, got up and went over to meet Sirius at the door who was struggling to stand.

“Remus, my Remus…” Sirius slurred, slumping against Remus and getting kebab sauce on his jumper. “They just… they don’t give a shit about me anyway… the fucking worthless disappointment son, they’ll wish that it was me rather than him, fucking…”

Sirius was ice cold. The sauce was all over his hands and t-shirt and god knows what was in his hair. He must have slipped over at some point, his jeans all muddied down his left hand side and there were two wet circles on his knees.  
“Shall I run you a bath, Sirius? Get you warmed up?” asked Remus.

Sirius nodded and left his kebab on the hall table. He stumbled towards the bathroom, fighting with his leather jacket, unsuccessfully trying to pull it off. “For fuck’s sake, fucking thing.”

Remus followed him and grabbed the sleeve that Sirius was flapping around. “Here, just wait, let me.”

Sirius gave in and let Remus undress him. He lifted up his arms to let Remus pull his t-shirt over his head, and Remus noticed scratches on his neck. “What happened here, Sirius?” he asked, running his finger over the raised lines.

Sirius stared at him blankly, pupils large and unfocused, “It’s my neck,” he pushed Remus’s hand away, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Sirius sat on the closed toilet as Remus unlaced his boots and pulled the towel from the radiator round his shoulders to keep him warm while he ran a bath, checking on the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Sirius watched him closely, swaying slightly and mumbling to himself while Remus sat on the edge of the bath in silence. When the water was ready he pulled Sirius up to standing and peeled his jeans from his legs, both noticing and ignoring the angry red bite marks between his thighs that Remus knows for certain weren’t there last night, sure to be bruises tomorrow.

He helped Sirius into the bath and washed him methodically, rubbing soap on his skin and mirroring what Sirius usually did for him after a full moon. He cupped his hands to dump water over Sirius’s head, then worked out the stickiness and tangles in his hair as Sirius started to quietly cry.

Remus pulled the plug and Sirius sat in the tub, sniffling while he watched the water drain away. Remus coaxed Sirius out of the bath, wrapped him in the towel and rubbed him dry. He let Sirius use the toilet, then led him through to the bedroom and tucked him in bed. He did a last sweep of the flat, making sure that the front door was locked and warded, and threw the kebab in the bin then joined Sirius in bed.

Remus lay awake for what felt like hours. Earlier he had been absolutely furious with Sirius, but seeing him so upset changed things. He knew that it would be easier to let this pass by rather than question Sirius about it. After all, Remus disappeared for three days after his Mum died and Sirius claimed not to mind, he was just happy that he came home. Except Remus didn’t come back covered in lovebites, just a little bit of sunburn from a secluded Cornwall beach (the place of childhood summer holidays) after spending an afternoon screaming at the waves.

When Remus woke the next morning, he busied himself getting ready for work and left Sirius in bed, curled up as Padfoot. Sometimes Sirius found it easier looking at the world through the mind of the dog, and also claimed that the hangovers were nowhere near as bad when he was in his dog form. Peter met Remus outside Angel tube station and together they travelled to meet their Ministry liaison in Hampstead.

“So, Sirius came home then, yeah?” Peter asked, talking over the noise of the train. “Where was he?”

“He was just out with some friends,” Remus lied.

“I didn’t know that Sirius had other friends! James will be gutted to hear that he’s cheating on us. Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, he’s dealing with it,” Remus said, hoping that his tone would hint to Peter that he didn’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work.

“Has he spoken to you about it?” 

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” said Remus, looking at the floor. Peter finally caught on and they spent the rest of the journey in silence.

 

**22nd August 1981**

Remus could tell by the way that Sirius was squirming around on the couch and fidgeting that he was trying to get his attention, so Remus focused on ignoring him even harder. Sirius was doing little things that he knew Remus hated - cracking his toes, bouncing his knee, moving the stuff abandoned on the coffee table, arranging it into little piles that made no sense. Remus continued to stare at his book, turning the pages with purpose but hardly absorbing what he was reading.

Finally, Sirius appeared to tire of waiting for Remus to give in and spoke. “You know those big lorries that Muggles use to transport sheep?”

Remus forced himself not to look up. He knew that Sirius must have been scrabbling for something to say to fill the silence and was well used to his strange thoughts and observations.

“Those ones with the upstairs and downstairs?” Sirius continued, bouncing his knee harder.

Remus noticed out of the corner of his eye that the plant on the table was beginning to shake with the vibrations. He relented, keeping his eyes trained on the page that he wasn’t sure if he’d already read. “Yes…”

Sirius continued, “Don’t you feel really sad when you see them? Those poor sheep all crushed in there, no idea that they’re being taken to the slaughter.”

“The last time you were near sheep you changed into Padfoot and chased them to the next field.” Remus turned the page. “Stop bouncing.”

Sirius went still, then flopped back onto the couch dramatically. “Yeah, but that was just a bit of fun. Those lorries are much worse.”

“Ok.” Remus could tell that Sirius wasn't going to let him be, so gave in and asked, “When did you see one of those anyway?”

“Last mission.”

“Ok.” 

There was a pause of blessed silence until Sirius spoke again. “It just makes me sad that’s all. I was with Caradoc and he said he’s never seen one before”

Remus felt himself tense slightly at the mention of his name and hoped that he didn’t let it show. That the tight line of his lips didn’t give away his annoyance at Sirius bringing up Caradoc. Fucking Caradoc.

Despite his efforts, Sirius obviously noticed. “Are you going to give me the silent treatment every time I talk about him? He is my friend, you know?” 

He could hear the sharpness in Sirius’s voice, but ignored it, not rising to the bait, and quietly replied, “No. I’m trying to read.”

“You’re trying to read, ok, well I’ll stop distracting you then. I thought that it might be nice to talk, have a chat, but no, I’m disturbing your reading.” Sirius stood up and made to go towards the kitchen.

Remus sighed, “Stop being so dramatic, Sirius, grow up.”

“Me? Why do I need to grow up when you’re the one who won’t fucking talk to me!” Sirius was fuming now, and stomped back into the living room. “Remus, for fuck’s sake! At least look at me!”

Remus raised his head and stared at him pointedly, then looked back down at his book. He knew that he was being obstinate, but didn’t really care.

Sirius huffed, about to speak when Remus cut him off. “You didn’t come home.”

“When?”

Remus laughed. “When?” He shook his head, then turned to look Sirius in the eye as he spoke slowly and deliberately. “You said that you were on the way home. Then two hours later you fire-called and said you were just leaving. You didn’t come home until half nine this morning. That’s when.”

“I know, I got drunk, I fell asleep,” Sirius shrugged, trying to brush it off.

Remus could feel the heat and colour in his face rising. He didn’t lose his temper often and he was trying hard not to now, but this was so typical of Sirius, thinking of no one but himself and Remus was fed up with it. He was just so tired. “If you’re not going to come home then just tell me! Don’t lie to me, I can take it.”

Sirius started. “I didn’t-”

Remus put his book down and rubbed his hands over his face, trying not to raise his voice and remain calm. “I didn’t know what had happened to you. What if the Death Eaters had got you? I didn’t know whether I should go to St Mungo’s or the Order or how the fuck I would even find you.”

“It’s not a big deal-”

He raised his hand up to stop Sirius there, cutting him off again. “Sure, it’s not a big deal then. Fine. It doesn’t matter.” He shifted in his seat, picking his book up again and opening it to a random page.

“Just fuck off if you’re going to be like this,” said Sirius, then murmured under his breath loud enough for Remus to hear. “No wonder I don’t want to come home if this is the bullshit that I have to deal with.” 

“What bullshit?” Remus spun round on the couch to face Sirius who was now at the living room door. “The fact that I give a shit that you’re not hurt? You don’t want to deal with the fact I care about you? Or is it just that you’d rather be out with Caradoc than alone with me?”

“What’s the point in being here when it’s always like this?”

“Is spending time with me really that awful Sirius? Tell me. Is it?”

“You’re such a fucking martyr, Remus. Fuck you. I don’t need this. It’s so much effort with you sometimes.” 

Remus ignored him and purposefully flicked over to the next page. He heard Sirius make his way down the hall and slam the door to their bedroom. Loud music started blaring out, something else for their neighbours to complain about, and Remus cast a quick silencing charm, both for the neighbours’ sanity and his own.

He spent the next few hours quietly seething, going over the conversation again and again in his head and thinking of all of the things that he could and should have said. At around midnight he gave up and made his way to bed and found Sirius cocooned in the blankets, most likely pretending to be asleep. Remus stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed, turning to face away from Sirius so they were lying back to back with only the sound of each other’s breathing and the faint noise of the city outside to cut through the deafening silence. 

Remus was almost asleep when he felt Sirius turn round and press himself against his back, snaking his arm under Remus’s and resting his hand on his chest. He kissed the back of Remus’s neck and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Remus didn’t reply. Sirius moved his hand down and inside Remus’s boxers, and Remus let him.

 

**1st Nov 1981**

Remus was in a hotel room in the wizarding quarter of York sleeping off an uneventful Halloween night of surveillance when he heard fireworks and the whoops and cheers of people celebrating outside. He clambered over the bed and pulled open the heavy curtains to peer out of the window, trying to see what all the commotion was about, thinking that it was a bit too early for Bonfire Night, unless he’d been asleep for much longer than he thought. He noticed groups of people gathered in the streets, hugging and laughing, while owls swooped overhead, far more than would usually be travelling at this time late in the day.

He pulled on his robes and headed down the rickety stairs and onto the street to find out what was happening. He approached an elderly purple-haired witch and tapped her politely on the shoulder. “Excuse me, what’s going on?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful, my dear! You-Know-Who is gone! He has been defeated at last!” she pulled Remus into a tight hug while he stood awkwardly. “They’re saying in the Daily Prophet that it was his own killing curse that rebounded and did away with him, here, look!”

She pulled a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet from her handbag and thrust it into Remus’s hands, turning away to dance a little jig with her husband. He scanned the front page and felt his stomach drop to the floor. His entire body was washed with an ice cold feeling of dread, and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. No, surely not, it couldn’t be true. But the words were on the page, as clear as day. _James and Lily Potter’s tragic deaths protecting their son Harry … The Boy Who Lived… their traitorous friend Sirius Black … murdered his friend Peter Pettigrew along with twelve Muggles … Sirius Black has been sent to Azkaban and is expected to be sentenced to life._

Remus’s head was swimming, he could hardly catch up with his own thoughts as he tried to understand what was happening, but he just couldn’t, it didn’t make sense. The jumble of emotions must have showed on his face, as the witch stopped dancing with her husband to ask, “Are you ok dear?”, but Remus couldn’t respond, his only reaction was to Apparate on the spot straight to their flat.

In hindsight this was a bad idea - the flat was crawling with Aurors who pounced on him the second that he appeared. Remus was too stunned to answer their questions properly and could only sit on the couch, yes-ing and no-ing and I don’t know-ing.

His mind slowly unraveled and allowed him to think a little more clearly. Why hadn’t anyone been in touch with him to let him know what had happened? To break him to it gently that his boyfriend had betrayed their best friends, caused their deaths, and left him all alone in this mess. Dumbledore knew where Remus was, he had sent him to York to keep watch on a vampire coven. Why the hell did he not think to let Remus know?

He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true, Sirius couldn’t have done it, but he knew deep down inside that he couldn’t possibly attest to Sirius’s innocence with any certainty. He had suspected that Sirius was betraying them, but couldn’t bring himself to actually admit it and now James, Lily and Peter were dead and Harry would grow up without the love of his parents. It was partly his fault - if he hadn’t allowed his misguided love for Sirius to blind him he would have listened to Peter when he mentioned seeing Sirius meet with some suspected Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley. Instead he dismissed it, saying that Sirius must have been on secret Order business, but he knew that Peter disagreed. If he hadn’t been such a coward he would have shared his growing misgivings about Sirius and stopped this from happening. His friends would have still been alive and well. His silence had killed them all.

Remus was still in a haze when the Aurors finally left. He went through to the bedroom and sat on the floor and allowed himself to cry. A few hours later he packed up some of his belongings in a backpack and left the flat, never to return.

 

**29th December 1984**

Remus decides that it’s time to leave town. On Christmas Day one of the girls in the squat overdosed and he spent most of the evening dealing with the long-suffering paramedics who received a torrent of abuse from her once they had reversed the effects of the drug. He then spent the rest of the night avoiding the police who came sniffing around after. 

Maybe once he's out of this hellish bedsit he’ll be able to sleep again without the fear of something happening to him. But sleeping comes with its own problems. He still sees Sirius in his dreams. He goes through phases for weeks at a time where he sleeps in peace, and then there are weeks in which he dreams about Sirius every night. In these dreams they are still together and the thought haunts him like a Dementor sucking out the very last pieces of happiness in his soul and then spitting them right back in his face. After all this time he wants to stop thinking about him, but he just can’t. He can’t escape.

He thinks that maybe if he could get a grip and sort out his life he’d be able to move on. Meet someone new, settle down, be happy. But then he remembers that he’s damaged goods. He’s not worth the effort. He grew up thinking that nobody would ever love him, not in that way, not really. Then Sirius happened.

Remus likes to believe that Sirius did genuinely love and care for him at one point, or at least Sirius thought that he did. That must have changed, but Remus doesn’t know when. He cannot pinpoint the moment when Sirius turned into the traitor he is. 

They used to go out on walks together and wander and chat for hours. When did that end? Remus had told himself that it was the pressure of the War kicking in that forced them to spend more time apart, but was it really? They used to lie in bed at night and share little bits of each other’s day, and find comfort in each other’s bodies. When did that change? When did it become staggered bedtimes and sleeping on the far ends of the bed, careful not to touch each other in the night?

He doesn’t know if he can ever go through all that again. 

He had loved Sirius, he had trusted him with his secrets, or at least those that were his to share, but now he is all too aware that this wasn’t the case for Sirius, and it makes Remus feel that his true worthlessness is all too clear. How many of his stories and excuses were lies? His insistence that he was “just tired from another mission, Moony, just leave it alone”.

The one person that he trusted with his life tore it apart.

Remus no longer has the energy to deal with such things, so he makes sure that he doesn’t have to. Plus, it’s getting worse; the anxiety constantly lurking under the surface. That sickening feeling in his stomach, the dull ball of fear occasionally spiking pain in his chest and the restlessness, coupled with a complete lack of desire to do anything. The anxiety and depression evening each other out to make him a somewhat functioning being.

He heads up to the loft to retrieve the tent that he had safely stashed away behind some broken bits of furniture that the house’s owner must have left up there. He doesn’t care too much where he goes, but finally settles on Pitlochry. He’ll be close enough to his father and home (although it hasn’t felt like home for a long while) for Hogmanay, the guilt will be a fitting punishment for ignoring his father’s owls again. The despair at starting another wretched year alone is all that he deserves.

He sighs and gathers up his tent and rucksack. He focuses on a secluded spot in the woods that he remembers visiting with his parents when he was eleven, their last family trip away before Hogwarts, and feels the rip of Apparition pull through him, hopeful for a second that he won’t come out the other side.


End file.
